Clean Up On Aisle 9
by girl in the glen
Summary: Ah, the mysteries of the American supermarket are nothing compared to what THRUSH might cook up. An entry for PicFic on Section VII.


"We're going to be doing what?" Illya wasn't certain he understood correctly what Napoleon was attempting to explain. The phrase being used made him think of a fairy tale, or worse.

"I said we're going undercover in a supermarket, and you're going to be a box boy." What on earth was a box boy?

"I haven't a clue what it is you are attempting to tell me, Napoleon. What is this box boy, and do you intend for me to … get into a box?"

Sometimes Napoleon wondered just how it was that his erudite partner had managed to get himself all of those degrees, and in science no less. Shaking his head in wonderment, he backtracked for his confused friend.

"Illya, don't you ever go grocery shopping? The box boy is the guy who bags your groceries for you. You're going to be a box boy, and I'm going to be …" Illya cut in. He didn't want to hear it, he already knew.

"The manager? It wouldn't do for our CEA to play box boy, would it. No, that falls to the poor immigrant." Illya was only half serious, although he was fairly certain that Solo would never pass for a box boy. It just wasn't in him.

"Very funny, Kuryakin. As a matter of fact, I won't be assuming the role of store manager, I'm going to visiting as a Regional Manager, because the store manager is the fellow we suspect of being involved with THRUSH."

Illya should have known it would be something like that.

"So, while I'm actually working at the store, packing away groceries for little old ladies and such, you'll be having coffee in the office with the manager." He sighed then as the smirk appeared on Napoleon's face; the one he always had at times like this.

Two days later found the blond in his box boy disguise, wearing store issued trousers and shirt as well as a green apron that distinguished him as a store employee. Once again he was playing the part of a man much younger than his actual age, something that would be repeated for many years.

For now it served the mission well, because people tended to be careless around young men who hadn't risen above the rank of box boy. Illya was passing by the manager's office when he noticed another man saunter in, accompanied by someone who looked an awful lot like a THRUSH collaborator known to both Kuryakin and Solo. The question was, would she recognize Illya?

Illya found a spot where he could watch the scene inside without being seen by the three people who had now gained the UNCLE agent's attention. Napoleon was due to show up any minute, according to the schedule they had prepared. If he walked in there now his cover would be blown. Checking to make sure no one was watching him, Illya slipped down from his perch and out the back door of the grocery, into an alley used by the various delivery trucks.

"Open channel D, this is Kuryakin." That's as far as he got, because the blow to his head put an effective end to the conversation.

"Pity, I had hoped we might finish this operation without any interference from UNCLE. Take him into the freezer and leave him." Magda was a socialite with a bad habit. She needed money and she didn't care where it came from. THRUSH had been supporting her habits since before Brother Love came to town, and she was a little sorry about his fate.

The man who had accompanied Magda to this little shopper's paradise recognized Illya from a file photo.

"If Kuryakin is here then his partner Napoleon Solo won't be far behind." Magda lit up at the name of Solo. She remembered him now, the handsome brunet who had brought down Brother Love. Well, Love's demise had been a blow to THRUSH, and the loss of the two UNCLE agents would, hopefully, be just as dreadful for Alexander Waverly.

"Make certain there's a trail to lead Mr. Solo to his partner. We want to make it easy for him to land in the same trap." Magda turned on her heels and headed back to the office to finish the business for which she had come to this drab little place. The things she did for THRUSH.

Logan, Magda's man, hoisted Illya over his shoulder and carried him to the freezer locker. All of the frozen foods were there waiting to be transferred to shelves and cold units in the store. Logan laid the Russian down on top of a stack of ice cream treats. Soon the blond would be like one of those popsicles, thought the burly man; it made him giggle like a little girl.

Napoleon was just minutes away when he got a call on his communicator.

"Solo. I'm almost to the store, is this urgent?"

"Napoleon. .. er, Mr. Solo…"

"Madge, is that you? What do you need, or is this a social call?"

"Mr. Solo! No, Illya, um.. Mr. Kuryakin… called in a little while ago, but then his line went dead. I think I heard something, like a grunt maybe. I don't know for sure, but … I don't think his battery went dead, if you know what I mean."

Napoleon paused to consider the probability that his partner had been discovered. He decided to go ahead with his arrival, just in case they didn't yet know he was involved.

"Thank you, Madge. If you hear from Illya tell him I'm going into the supermarket now. Why don't you send Haynes and Bridges over here, I might need some back up. Solo out."

"I'll do that now, Napoleon. Out."

Napoleon pulled into the parking lot of the Super Ace grocery store, sighing as he cut the ignition. If Illya was in trouble, then chances were someone inside knew him, had recognized him, and would probably recognize Napoleon as well. He'd do better to just go in the front door and let the bad guys show their hand.

Illya came to in the freezing cold of the locker normally reserved for items intended for this temperature. Luckily for him Kuryakin had a few tools on his person. Apparently no one had bothered to disarm him completely, and that was going to be their downfall.

The heel of Illya's shoe contained a small incendiary, something that was going to be very useful for blowing down the door to this ice house. As he shivered and tried to keep his fingers from going numb Illya snapped a wire that ignited his little flame. Attaching it to the hinges and then backing away, he knew it would be just a minute or two before…

Bam! The door blew wide open and as it did so the heavy structure fell on top of the man who had carried Illya inside the locker. He was out cold. The noise did bring everyone's attention to the cold locker area, however, and immediately Illya was confronted with two more THRUSH. Magda stood apart from the melee that ensued, unaware that walking up behind her was the man she had plotted to capture.

"Hello Magda. My, it's been a long time since that little garden party." The older woman was shocked from her attention to the ruckus going on between the Russian and her two guards. It looked as though her time was about to be up.

"Mr. Solo, we meet again under rather difficult circumstances. I don't suppose there's any way…?" Napoleon shook his head, tisking at the question.

"No, I'm sorry Magda. From the looks of my partner over there…' Illya had just finished off goon number two, much to Napoleon's relief.

"I think you were planning on doing away with him, and probably me as well. Let's just say you shop at the wrong stores."

Haynes and Bridges rushed into the store just as Illya was wiping his hands of the entire situation. Literally, he was covered in ice cream and all attempts to get rid of the residue were failing.

"Ah, look at you Illya. I couldn't even send you in here to bag groceries without you ruining your clothes and ending up in an ice cream fight. Really, I just can't take you anywhere." The smirk was back and Illya thought seriously about heaving one of the opened ice cream containers right into…

"What do you suppose Magda was planning in this grocery store? Where's the manager?" Just then the man in question was trying to sneak out the back and into the alley. When he opened the door another UNCLE agent was standing ready.

"Another excellent effort. I see Andrews came along as well, so we're all wrapped up here. Illya?" The blond cut his eyes to look at the perfectly clean man next to him.

"Yes Napoleon?"

"You're … never mind. It's just that when you go back to headquarters you'll need to check in with Medical." Illya cast a quizzical look at his partner.

"Yes, I know that. What is your point, Napoleon, because I am certain there is one."

"You did get hit on the head, didn't you?"

"Yes…"

"Well…' It was all Napoleon could do to not bust out laughing.

"I guess you'll have to tell them you have an ice cream headache."

Illya just walked away, shaking his head, mumbling beneath his breath… 'blockhead'.


End file.
